


A Baby Bird Without a Nest

by Capucine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consent Issues, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healthy Relationships, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Single Parents, Teenage Parents, Unhealthy Relationships, Ups and Downs of Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick is blindsided by the news he's a father--at sixteen. And considering the mother is Talia, there is good reason to be. Damian Grayson is a baby with his eyes--and he is suddenly his responsibility.</p><p>Contains issues with consent concerning Talia and Dick, a somewhat unhealthy parental relationship between Dick and Bruce, single teenage fatherhood, a healthy relationship between Babs and Dick, a brief homelessness, and much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past an Egg

**Author's Note:**

> Just thought the other day what it'd be like if Damian was Dick's kid--and then realized the very dubious sort of circumstances that'd have to be involved. No graphic rape or anything--but Dick does certainly feel violated, as he should.
> 
> And Damian's gonna be a cutie.

Sixteen.

It was far too young to be a father, in any case—and Dick's circumstances hardly made it any easier.

He felt like he didn't remember Talia and him ever...well. He didn't remember them doing anything that would make a baby, and the way Talia's eyes coolly looked past him supported that theory.

But she had a baby with her, and good god, it-- _he_ \--had Dick's eyes, blue and watching him like he didn't know what to make of him. Not as trusting as a baby's eyes should be, in Dick's opinion, and he made not a peep.

“How...” his throat was like paper, “How do I know he's mine? You can't be serious.”

Talia pressed her lips together—pomegranate-red-pink, and eyes dusted with eyeshadow that complimented her green eyes. “Did you want DNA evidence? I can provide it. We have extensive files on his DNA—and yours. The Bat--” and here, her lip sort of sneered slightly, but not hate, “had your DNA on file, in any case, and what we have will match—so does Damian's. In terms of being yours, not being a clone.”

Her breasts were on display, nearly popping out of the dress, but Dick hardly noticed as he stared at the small child in front of him. Talia was still holding him out, clearly expecting Dick to take him.

Dick swallowed. How could he have had this kid? He was—the kid had to be almost a year old, and nine months before that... He paled at the math. “Did...Did I...?”

Talia sighed, as if weighing what her answer would bring. “What difference does it truly make if he's yours?”

He deserved to know what happened. He could feel a sort of anger lick up the inside of his chest, and he grit his teeth as he started, “Of course it makes a difference, if I--”

“He is yours.” She said it with finality—and dropped Damian.

Dick dove before he even thought about it, easily catching the child and clutching him to his chest. He thought, maybe, he caught relief in Talia's eyes too—before she disappeared out the window.

Damian uttered a small sound that sounded like asking for his mother. His tiny fingers clenched in Dick's shirt, as he began to suck on his collar.

Dick was stunned, still there in half-crouch as he held the child. The crinkle of papers as Damian moved, however, made him come alive again.

There was indeed DNA work tucked into Damian's blankets—but as if Dick could trust it. He'd need to—his brain seemed to crackle a bit, reel—he needed to find out if this kid truly was his. He needed to know how it could have happened, and how...

No. He would focus on paternity first—and then wonder. Then investigate.

Otherwise, he might throw up.

Not because Talia wasn't beautiful or anything like that—but she was an adult, and he could've been a fourteen year old, and he _definitely_ did not remember ever getting beyond awkward kissing at that age. And focusing on that thought was troubling, sent prickles through his skin—he couldn't consider it right now.

He gently moved Damian away from his collar—he was in civvies. The baby had made it quite damp, gnashing at it with mostly gums—but some teeth poking through that. In fact, a pair of canines, it seemed, were most prominent.

Damian stared at him with those blue eyes, and his lower lip started to tremble.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, I swear. You're okay,” Dick managed, rubbing the baby's back. He was soft, so squishy and utterly breakable. So fragile. Dick felt like he was handling one of those things at a store that you were afraid of breaking.

Damian let out a low cry, a low almost-wail. His tone was a bit strange, less the high-pitched screech that Dick usually heard from babies. 

Dick rocked him, trying to figure out what he was going to do with him—beyond the immediate calming him down.

He had to find out if Damian was truly his—then, then...he would figure it out. He would figure it out.

And his blasted brain allowed him to find someone to watch Damian—specifically, Wally, who had come at a call, and not asked questions—when requested not to. He just looked at the blue eyes, and cradled Damian with all the care one would expect of Wally.

When it came to people, small children, Wally really was pretty great at caring for them.

Dick slipped back home. He didn't want to bring it up to Bruce—yet. Once he was sure what was going on, maybe he would involve Bruce. Talia had definitely been one of Bruce's paramours, that much he knew—and he did not want to get caught in a complicated situation like that if it wasn't true.

He'd taken a sample from Damian, and of course, his DNA was already in the system. So, he set it going. It would take a short bit.

In the meantime, he started researching what he knew about Talia.

She was the daughter of Ra's al Ghul—revived more than once in the Lazarus Pits. Which, of course, probably led to all kinds of crazy, frankly. Maybe she was just playing a game.

He tried to find any known children of Talia—nothing. At least, nothing apparent. There was also her sister, Nyssa al Ghul, at least a century and a half old—but she was supposed to be infertile. She could not have had Damian, most likely.

Ra's had fathered children—maybe Damian was really his. Dick started digging into the files—and came up against encryption. 

Nothing he couldn't handle—he needed to know, and he didn't want to alert Bruce just yet. Things had been a bit tense between them lately, Bruce with a need to control and Dick with a need to be free. Well, this was one more instance in which Dick would be the one in control, for once. 

He broke the encryption—and immediately started on the files regarding immortality.

It wasn't quite what he was looking for, but he hoped to find some clue.

He only felt Bruce's shadow over his shoulder moments before the shout of, “What are you doing?!” came crashing into his ears.

Dick stood up. His whole mind kept doing a weird whorl, like it was made of jello, and he had to focus. “It's not your business.” Maybe he was being a bit petulant—but Bruce didn't need to know everything, and Dick wasn't _ready_ to talk to him about this.

“I encrypted those files for a reason,” Bruce growled, “What were you doing in them? Because if you're thinking of dabbling in that, or going after Ra's yourself--”

“So you can have hidden things, but I can't?” Dick demanded, a sudden flare of anger going through him. He wasn't entirely certain where it came from. “You can hide your files—but you know everything about me. You know every case I work on. What kind of partners are we?”

“I'm the senior partner,” Bruce said gruffly, “And you're a minor. You listen to me—and you stay out of those files.”

Dick glared, another flare of anger going through him. He did not like being told what to do of late. “Partners are equals, Bruce—or they're not really partners, are they? You haven't trusted me from day one, have you?”

Dick wasn't sure he was making sense—but Bruce apparently took it very personally.

“You have no idea what goes into being a crimefighter—you're still a child, and you need to--”

“Oh yeah? Did I have no idea when I was being beaten by Two-Face? How about when I--”

“Stop it!” Bruce snapped it angrily. His temper was rising, Dick could see it—but he couldn't stop.

“Apparently, a child is good enough to risk his life, but not to know details about his enemies—they're my enemies too, as much as yours! It's fucking stupid to keep in the dark—but that's how you like it, right? Me not knowing what's going on so you can keep your control? You're as fucking messed up as the creeps you fight!”

A pain snapped through Dick's face. It ached as he staggered back, Bruce's fist already pulled back to his body.

Bruce's face was indecipherable. “Get out.” He seemed to look towards his fist again, and then glared vehemently at Dick. “Get out! Get out of my house!”

Dick went, running—not certain if he was scared, or angry, or what—but knowing to leave.

His heart did a painful throb, and then hardened—maybe he wasn't welcome here anymore. 

Maybe the fledgling of this Robin was long over.

And he didn't know what to do or think beyond that, as he sobbed into the winter gloves he'd managed to pull on and hid his face in the hood of his coat.


	2. Worms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is overwhelmed by all that's happened--but first things first. Damian needs fed.

Dick didn't know what he was doing. He knew he had to go back, had to do something about the baby, but he didn't know what.

He'd snagged the results--positive. He'd gone over the crumpled paper about a million times by now, crouched under a bridge and trying not to panic. He wasn't given to panic, but this was a huge situation--a double-situation, kicked out and he had a baby now.

He felt kind of cold, and at the same time, filled to the bursting with too much emotion. He didn't know if the cold was emotional or, you know, the actual chill of this time of year. It was early December, after all, and Gotham was not prone to warm Decembers.

He'd stopped crying, though his face felt sticky and weird. He swiped at his face again, but he'd already wiped away everything.

But how? He wondered this dully. How was Damian his child? How could it have even happened?

His phone rang at that point. "Hey, Dick," he heard the instant he picked it up, "The baby's not allergic to formula, right?"

Dick didn't know. He opened his mouth to say something, but just a soft breath came out, unwilling to carry words on it.

"Dick?" Wally seemed to immediately become way more concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dick managed, keeping the broken note of the word, he believed, even as he felt it try to force its way out.

Wally sounded unsure as he replied, saying, "Hey, when are you coming back? I can only hang around a donut shop so long, you know. I can only drink so much coffee."

He wasn't really complaining, Dick knew that--he just tended to talk, even if he didn't know what to say. It was a sign of caring, because he knew that Dick didn't want to tell him, but...

Dick let out a sigh into the phone, and he could pick a sort of subdued baby wail beginning in the background. "I'm, uh, I'm coming. You said he's hungry?"

"Yeah, I would guess so. He's trying to nurse on just about anything, I think--even my nose. So, yeah. If you want to get here, I can pick up formula faster than you can."

Dick sighed. "If Bruce hears about meta activity in his city...he's not gonna...yeah. I'll pick it up on my way over. Don't give him coffee."

"Gotcha. Is he old enough to eat tiny, tiny bits of donut?"

Dick felt a bit of disorientation swirl in his stomach. "I, uh, I don't know. I don't...I don't know how old he is, or what he can eat."

He could hear the baby start to whimper. Damian, his name was Damian.

"Hey, hey, little guy, you're okay, you're okay, big bro Wally is here--So, dude, let's just stick with formula for now--it should cover what he needs, right? The essentials and stuff. We'll figure out everything else once he's fed. You got that?"

Dick nodded--then said, "Yeah. I'll be there in a bit."

He never nodded before. He always remembered to communicate in an audible fashion when using technology that required it.

This must have shaken him more than he thought.

"Kay. Be safe."

It somehow wasn't weird--in their line of work, asking someone to be safe certainly wasn't crazy. Given that they could very easily outright die--no need for the whole 'but we're not gay/attracted to each other!' thing, most of the time.

Well, _most_ of the time.

"Yeah." He hung up, a bit stupidly, and lurched off to find baby formula.

Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find--babies had to eat wherever you lived, and so he found what seemed about right.

He'd had to search for a bit between the types--for a moment, a bleary moment, he thought he saw one labelled boy--but it was soy, and he needed to keep his head on straight. Advanced seemed about right, and so he grabbed that one, paid for it with the cash he had on him, and left.

He was a little disturbed to realize he did not have exactly a large amount of cash on him. How was he going to feed Damian after this? How about himself? Where...

His mind seemed to blank. Just focus on feeding Damian.

He'd figure everything out after that. He'd been through world-shattering things before, he'd make it through this one.

He made it to the donut shop. He spotted Wally bouncing Damian on his knee while the baby squalled, face red and eyes pinched shut angrily.

Wally was apparently pleading with Damian to calm down, but his face just seemed to melt with relief on seeing Dick. "Thank god! I have some water here, let's mix it up."

"...we don't have a bottle," Dick realized with dismay. 

Wally groaned. "Well, Bruce is just going to have to deal with it, then, cause this kid needs to eat."

Dick sighed, and took Damian from Wally. The baby continued screaming, and while Dick could recognize it wasn't as loud as a lot of babies he'd heard, it still felt like a spike cutting through to his brain. He cradled Damian close and hoped that would muffle him a little. Not smother, though.

Wally walked out normally, but Dick knew he was going to use his superspeed. 

The plastic grocery bag crinkled on his arm as he patted Damian's back, the baby wailing at what must have been significant hunger pangs tormenting him. At least, that's what Dick thought--babies didn't just cry about nothing, right?

He wondered when Talia had fed him.

Wally was already back. He came in rather casually, saying, "You forgot it in the car."

There was no car, but Wally's time in getting it certainly didn't allow for any other explanation. He held up a plastic bottle, a sort of mint green with teddy bears holding balloons on the sides. It had a nipple at the top, rubber but white, not like the stereotypical orange ones you saw.

There was no time to waste, because Damian was sounding like he might lose his tiny mind--or they might.

They got it mixed, and held the bottle up to Damian's mouth.

The baby took a moment to realize what was going on, a few more half-wails and then whimpers making it past his lips before he busily got to work drinking it.

Wally let out a sigh of relief. "Whew. I was glad it wasn't his diaper, but, you know..."

Dick would need diapers. And wipes. And...whatever else went with diapers.

Damian's face was still red, streaked with tears, but his blue eyes looked at Dick rather trustingly. They were entirely clear of the anger or pain or frustration of before. A look like he'd known Dick his whole life, and yes, this was a good guy.

It almost made Dick laugh. Give him food, and he trusted him. Not unlike Wally.

"Hey, so, uh..." Wally was looking like he wanted to ask questions. Dick slid into the booth next to him, to hide their conversation, as Damian sucked noisily and with apparent relief at having food.

"Yeah?" Dick asked tiredly.

"Is...is Damian yours?" Wally asked this rather quietly, eyeing the baby with a look Dick wasn't sure he understood. It wasn't accusatory, sad, or even outright loving...it was different.

"...yeah. Yeah, he seems to be," Dick sighed, then stiffened a little. He should not have said that in front of Damian. 

Damian didn't seem to react to his words, but he did look up at him when he stiffened. His eyes were vaguely curious, like he hadn't entirely been paying attention or something.

Wally seemed to get that this was not a time to make a joke about it at all. He tended to have a certain amount of sensitivity for his friends--and Dick knew he didn't feel awkward around him, so he didn't need to cover it up with jokes. "I'm...that's rough, man."

"Yeah. Not his fault, though," Dick sighed, feeling Damian's head dip back into him as the baby held the bottle tightly between his hands and drank.

His head felt so small, somehow. And kind of warm, even through Dick's sweatshirt (a sweatshirt that Barbara called 'obscenely blue and yellow'). He sort of absently tucked his open coat around Damian.

He could see Wally watching him. "Does Bruce know?"

"No." And Dick could feel his stomach give a clench, the thought of the strife it could cause--besides which, he wasn't welcome. He thumbed away the remaining tear streaks on Damian's face, feeling the cooling, returning-to-normal-color skin under the digit. "And he's not going to know."

He could tell Wally wasn't certain what to say to that. And then it looked like he wanted to demand why, or tell him to just go tell Bruce, or explain what the hell was going on.

But instead, he said, "Okay. What do you need?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay babies! Sorry about the wait, things have just been a bit crazy--been sick and stressed and all that. :P Just a general lack of writing, I guess. It's sad.
> 
> But anyway, I hope you liked it!


	3. Temporary Nesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tries to manage taking care of Damian and finding a place to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da!

Damian was a baby. And babies wore diapers.

This was something that occurred to Dick pretty quickly--had occurred to him earlier. And he was thinking on how much a baby cost--something he really hadn't had to consider before.

Diapers, wipes, clothes, something to sleep in, _toys_...

They were walking down the street, Damian tightly bundled in Dick's jacket, as Wally led him. 

Into a convenience kind of store. And Wally immediately walked to the baby aisle, and started putting a few things into a basket.

He was quiet for once. Dick had told him his intention to keep Damian, at least for now--and Wally had replied that he would help him, then. That was what friends were for. If Damian was his kid, then Wally had no right to demand he give him up or anything.

Dick would have wanted to keep his father. He would have wanted John Grayson over Bruce Wayne, he thought to himself. A real father--Bruce was not quite a father, in Dick's opinion, and he quickly changed his thoughts over to something else.

"Hey. What size is Dami's butt?"

The question caught Dick off guard, and he let out a snort of laughter, seeing the diapers in various sizes. "I...I dunno."

Wally gave him a kinda smile. One that was half-sad. "Okay. Probably this size, then." He put a pack of diapers into the basket, and then some wipes.

Damian started to make a noise at that point--not crying, but as if he was trying to talk to Dick. Dick could feel his hand clench in the sweatshirt, as he quietly tried to talk to him.

Dick just responded. "I know, Damian. It's okay. The diapers'll fit."

Wally was looking at him, smiling just a bit again. "If they don't, I'll just ask Uncle Barry for pizza money or something, kay? It'll be fine. Hey, do you need baby powder? Cause, yeah, if he's got diaper rash or something..."

Dick shook his head, and put one hand into the Damian-carrying pouch that his jacket made--his other arm was supporting the baby. Damian's fingers curled around his larger finger, and he began to gnosh on it--it didn't hurt. He did have a couple teeth, though.

Dick couldn't quite describe the feeling of having a baby holding on to your finger. It just felt so trusting and small and...he hefted Damian a little higher, not wanting to risk him falling out of his jacket.

"And he's going to need a coat--some other clothes, too." Wally was busily moving along the aisle, into a small section for baby clothes. It looked like mostly onesies, kinda cheap pajama pants, and then a puffy little coat. Throughout the whole thing, Wally would sort of hold up the item of clothing to the lump in Dick's jacket, make a thoughtful noise, and sometimes putting it back and choosing a different size or design, or putting it in the basket.

"Hey, is he even wearing socks?"

Dick honestly didn't know. He carefully moved Damian out of his jacket, murmuring back to him as the baby babbled quietly at him, apparently not so much annoyed at being moved out of his cozy nest as he was curious as to why it was happening.

Unraveling him from the blankets he'd come in revealed that he was wearing a simple onesie sort of thing--off-white, and a diaper (thank god)...no socks. His feet were pillowy, small, curled toes seeming to clench as Dick touched his feet--and then he started crying.

And there was something off about his feet, Dick realized. It almost looked like a callous had been worn into the blade--and there was slight yellowing. A sudden, instinctual examination of Damian's hands revealed a similar yellowing and slight callousing. 

Wally must have seen the dark look on his face, because he said, a touch quietly, "So...no socks?"

They had been...Dick didn't want to think much on it, but at the same time his gut seemed to broil. Yellowing like that only came from bruising...old bruising.

He had the thought of examining the rest of the now whimpering baby's body, to see what else they'd done to his son...but that thought, the confirmation that this was his son, took some of the energy out of him, and he shook his head, bundling Damian back up. "No socks."

He held Damian close to his chest, rocking gently. Making little murmuring sounds to calm him.

Wally put some dino socks into the basket, itty bitty.

Damian rubbed his face against Dick's chest, as his fussing quieted down. Dick smoothed his silky hair, and looked over at Wally.

There must have been some desperation in his face, because Wally came over, putting an arm around him comfortingly. "It's gonna be all right."

Wally could guarantee it so easily that Dick could almost believe it--wanted to believe it. He could almost just fall into the easy assurance that it would all work out. But instead, he hefted Damian a bit higher, remembering that this tiny person was relying on him to put his all into this--whatever he was going to do.

"Yeah."

Wally sighed, and continued on to the teethers. He chose a cheap, but sturdy, one, bright red with orange and blue and yellow. "I think this'll cut it for now. We'll figure out a way to sleep him, cause I don't have enough cash right now for a bed or anything..."

Dick could feel a stab of guilt. "It's okay, Wally--I mean, thank you. For, uh, everything."

And his eyes were watering, so he just pressed his face into the top of Damian's head.

Wally gave him a hug, careful of Damian. "Hey. It's what friends are for, kay? I probably owe you a million and one favors--just consider this one of them. Now, come on, let's check out--I got some baby food for his age range too, like, bout 8-12 months, I'd guess. And a couple younger ones. And some formula."

He caught Dick's eyes, and his own were a soft green, a promise, "It's going to be okay, Dick."

Dick nodded, words caught in his throat.

Wally patted the side of his head, and then said, "Come on, let's go check out. We gotta get Dami out of the nasty store, right, Dami?" He'd leaned down, sort of tweaking Damian's ear--but in what Dick could tell was a non-painful fashion.

They headed for the checkout line, which was short--and then got everything. Dick watched as Wally handed over some crinkled twenties, and the look of the cashier, an old lady, was a mix between disgust and sympathy--like she wasn't sure if they were a hooligan gay couple or the elder brother plus friend of a cute, sad looking baby.

Dick just cradled Damian closer, feeling a touch of rage at the look. He and Wally were not disgusting in any way, and he and Damian were not a pity case.

Wally grinned brightly at the cashier, striking up small talk and babbling on about the store's rewards card (it was a chain, after all) and how great the deal on the onesies was.

The grocery bags crinkled in his hands as he turned to Dick, saying, "Okay, we can go."

They exited the store, and were back out in the chill. Wally hastily put the coat and some socks on Damian, quieting his fussing by making silly faces and singing the ABC song in a goofy voice.

Dick got Damian back inside his jacket, still nervous about the baby getting affected by the cold. He just felt so small. Dick couldn't even imagine anyone he knew being that small, despite having seen babies before.

It was an eternity, as they walked up the sidewalk, until Wally finally said, "So...where do you want to go?"

Go. Dick was thinking...and he couldn't ask Wally to take him in. His parents wouldn't be keen on it, he was sure, and Wally had already done so much for him...

A safehouse came up in his memory. An old one Bruce probably wouldn't notice. "I got a place. It's okay."

He shifted awkwardly, turning on the corner and then stopping. "Uh...see you in a bit?"

Wally looked at him strangely, but finally nodded. "Okay. See you in a bit--you need anything, anything at all, you call me, okay?" And he squeezed Dick tightly, like he might never see him again.

Which was silly--of course he would. Dick hugged him back. "Thanks for everything, Wally."

"Yeah, no prob," Wally said, a sort of grin on his face. A sad one.

But he left--took a taxi, Dick thought.

Bruce would be annoyed enough with Wally if he knew that he'd sped through the city to get a bottle, after all. Maybe outright aggravated.

And Dick tromped down the sidewalk. Wally had offered to give him taxi money, but he told him it was a short walk. It wasn't far--only a few blocks. And with Damian bundled in a coat and his jacket, he thought it would be fine.

It was a gray apartment building, old and graffitied on the back. It had a mesh screen over the door, and Dick swung it open with a creak. Then, he picked the lock--he didn't exactly have the key anymore. He walked down the hallway, which smelled of air freshener (the cheap kind), and the scratchy carpet seemed to grind under his shoes.

Then, the safehouse--secret location, anyway. 231, a blue door. It had a secret spot to put in a security code, and Dick tapped it in easily--the birthday of Abraham Lincoln.

'Error.'

Dick blinked. Maybe he'd mixed it up. 

He tried the birthday of Julius Caesar--'Error.' Then the birthday of James Madison. Then the birthdays of Susan B. Anthony, Emperor Hirohito, and Greg Mendel.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

In fact, the next announcement from the machine was, 'Invalid. Locked for: 24 Hours.'

He could have screamed. But it was as if Damian could pick up on the tension in him, the urge to scream, and the baby let out a plaintive sound, almost a question.

"It's...it's okay, Damian. We're gonna be okay," Dick promised.

He thought hard--the main thing was to stay warm, for now, right? If he waited 24 hours, he might be able to crack the code.

Because what he'd realized was that he hadn't forgotten the passcode. Bruce had deliberately blocked him out--taken the time to remotely access it. Probably all the safehouses in the city.

And he just should not hike through the city with Damian--it was dark. It was getting cold. But he could cross the street to the coffee shop--which was open 24 hours. He was positive he had enough for at least two cups of the cheapest coffee. He'd just have to make them last a long time, so they wouldn't try to shoo him out.

With the grocery bags crinkling loudly on his arms, he made it into the coffee shop--it was dumpy, for a coffee shop, and the faded furniture had clearly seen better times--but the cheery picture of a grinning snowman suggested there were still people with hope in this establishment. 

Dick ordered a coffee, and then, after receiving it, settled into the nearest cushy chair. Damian seemed about ready to sleep, thank god, and snuggled up against his chest.

Or so Dick thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Dick is kinda letting his pride get in the way at this point. And babies are not easy--as he's about to learn.
> 
> Also, Bruce is not trying to be cruel--he's trying to get Dick to come home, but going about it entirely the wrong way. Because he is exactly that kind of person.


	4. It Takes a Flock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is inconsolable, and Dick can't figure out why. If only babies could talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some OCs, but not as a thing, I guess.

Damian was not about to go to sleep. In fact, it felt like he would never sleep. Ever.

He kept seeming to root around with his face, pressing it up against Dick, letting out discontented little noises, and then start kicking him unintentionally. Well, it _seemed_ unintentional. His body was warm, and his eyes kept sinking shut and then opening, yawning and whimpering the next moment. Even seemingly trying to talk to Dick on occasion.

He’d put him in the pajama pants that Wally had gotten—an ugly teddy bear print, the bears looking sort of bedraggled and sad.

Kind of how Dick felt.

He kept rubbing at Damian’s back, promising, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just go to sleep…”

But of course, being a baby, Damian couldn’t be reasoned with. He made a frustrated little noise and started crying, at which point Dick wanted to rip his own face off and sink into an early grave. He was tired, his nerves were jittery from coffee, his head hurt, his chest hurt, and he just wanted to sleep.

It was just past midnight, and typically, Dick would be awake now—but he would take a night off if he felt this shitty. If he’d taken a huge emotional blow like this.

And Damian was squalling now, the sound like a million needles being jammed into his brain.

He could see the other occupants looking at him, and his frantic mind said they hated him, were judging how poorly he was taking care of his son. Why else would a child scream like that?

An elderly woman came towards him. She had leathery skin like she’d tanned about thousand times too much, and she wore cheap lipstick that was also on her teeth—which Dick saw when she opened them to snap, “If you can’t control your baby, you shouldn’t take her out in public!”

And Dick could have cried. He had nowhere else to be but ‘public’ for the next twenty-two hours, and maybe he was total shit at this, and even as he tried to clutch Damian closer, calm him, the baby just flailed all his limbs and screamed louder. “I’m trying—“

“You’re not trying hard enough! Take her outside, at least, so we can get some goshdarn peace and quiet!” The old lady snapped, and then stalked over to the counter when Dick didn’t scramble to his feet to get his baby out in the cold. “Excuse me, manager—“ she didn’t even wait for the person with ‘manager’ printed on their nametag, “I have been coming here for years, and I have never had to suffer through such disruption!”

However, the blonde girl at the counter didn’t look cowed. Instead, she said, with a shrug, “If you need more quiet and privacy to read _Fifty Shades_ , might I suggest the bathroom, ma’am?”

The old lady spluttered angrily, turning red through the leather tones of her skin. “I have come here for years—“ she started again.

But blonde and sassy said, “I know, we all remember you. And hey, we stocked up on sugar packets before you came, so hopefully there’ll be no shortage. Did you need anything else, ma’am?”

The implication of, ‘you take all the sugar packets and barely buy anything’ was heavily there, and it cowed the women, who tucked her book more tightly under her arm. “Well, I never,” she just kept repeating, as she stalked out of the coffee shop like a predator who had been disoriented from the hunt by a bright light.

“Have a nice day!” the cashier sang out, as the door closed with a chime.

Dick was rocking Damian almost frantically, trying to calm him down, when he realized both the cashier and another woman, this one a dark tan woman with curled hair and reading glasses pushed up, were coming towards him.

“Hey. I got some warm milk, if she drinks it,” the cashier said, handing him a cup-full. She’d clearly seen his bottle. Her name tag read, ‘Sierra.’

He didn’t get the chance to accept the milk, as the other woman introduced herself, “My name’s Arabella—may I?”

She was holding her arms out for Damian, and Dick, as much as he felt kind of stupid when he reflected on it, handed him over without a second thought.

She was examining him, making soothing little noises, as Sierra helped him get the milk in a bottle. “I put a touch of sugar in it—works wonders.”

“Yeah, he, uh…” Dick realized he had no idea what Damian liked.

“Oh, he, gotcha,” Sierra said brightly, and Dick realized it was probably like morning for her and that was why she was so awake.

Night shift and all that.

Arabella had Damian undressed, partly—the pants were off, and Dick saw with horror that Damian’s legs were an irritated red, bowed and chubby but covered in the color. Arabella was examining the pants, and said, holding them out to Dick, “Honey, feel this.”

Dick felt the material. It wasn’t exactly plush, but it didn’t feel like it should do that to his skin. He looked in confusion to Arabella.

“This is his first time wearing these pants, isn’t it?” Arabella said, and Dick realized Damian wasn’t screaming anymore, instead sniffling and pressing his face against Arabella like he already trusted her just for removing his pants.

“Yeah, I just got them—I don’t think he’s allergic, it’s a man-made fiber, not wool or—“

Dick was cut off, but not meanly. Arabella said, “Babies have sensitive skin, and it seems like he has particularly sensitive skin. This might not feel bad to you, but it probably feels like sandpaper to him.”

Dick was rather horrified. He wished babies could understand apologies. And he realized, as Arabella handed Damian back, after kissing his little forehead and telling him he was a good boy, that Damian’s clothes, the ones he’d come in, were indeed a very soft material. “I’m sorry, Dami,” he murmured, petting his head and holding him close.

Sierra proffered the bottle, and he took it, giving it to Damian, who immediately drank it, nestled in the crook of Dick’s arm snugly.

“Whew! The end of the world has been averted!” Sierra said, with a sympathetic grin.

Dick how much coffee she drank on the job. He nodded at her, and then Arabella. “Thanks—um, thanks so much. I’m still, uh…”

“Figuring it out?” Arabella said, a soft look on her face. “Is he yours?”

She didn’t say it in an accusatory way—more like she understood if he was. 

Dick nodded.

Her eyes softened more. “Is the mama in the picture?”

“I hope not,” he murmured, before he could stop himself. He bit his lip, a feeling of chilly revulsion coming over him. “I mean, she’s…she’s not.”

“Wow. You don’t see a lot of single dads,” Sierra said, “I mean, Dave is, but he’s not here or he’d probably have been more drastic.”

They seemed to refrain from probing about his age. Maybe he passed for not being a minor. Maybe they thought he had a parent he was returning to. Dick wasn’t sure.

“You live around here?” Arabella asked.

“Yeah, uh, kinda—I’m not homeless!” he quickly clarified, “The heat’s just turned off. It should be on again soon.”

Arabella handed him a piece of notepaper with a phone number and an address scrawled on it. “You need help, you can call me or come to visit, okay?”

“And come back here anytime,” Sierra said, nodding towards the back. “Dave’s the day manager and he’ll totally make sure you’re okay—and Barbara’s the night manager, and she should be back from her meal break soonish, and she’s really cool, okay?”

It was a weird coincidence that it was the same name as Babs. He hadn’t seen her since she left for college—a grade or two early, using gymnastics scholarships. She had celebrated her seventeenth birthday not long before leaving for her first semester that August.

But Dick was near crying, and so he nodded mutely.

Damian was quiet soon, as Arabella got back to what appeared to be studying, and Sierra returned to her register. In fact, the baby fell into slumber pretty quickly, lips no longer held tightly together and lashes twitching every so often, dark against his cheeks.

Dick was relieved, and thought he might stay awake a little longer, might be able to ask Arabella about baby stuff, when he drifted off.

Sweet sleep was like heaven, even in an old, threadbare chair.

He drifted for longer than he would have thought possible.

When he woke, it was to a damp spot on his jeans—and someone leaning over him.

“Dick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually act like Sierra about screaming kids--not as much with the sass, cause I almost never have customers like that, but yeah.
> 
> And Arabella and she will probably feature but not be the main focus. :)
> 
> And is it Babs or is it not? HOW WILL WE KNOW?! XD
> 
> Babies being majorly sensitive is also a thing.


	5. When You Find A Baby Bird on the Ground...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is surprised to find Barbara Gordon is a night manager at the coffee shop. The night has hardly run out of surprises, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPLIED REFERENCED CHILD ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER!

Dick blinked, coming into what felt like a hazy, achy half awake at the voice. “What?”

And there was Babs, red hair tossed over her shoulder and a crinkled brow. “What’s going on here?”

His brain seemed to short circuit a little, and he could feel Damian draped over his lap, hear the baby sucking on his own fist—and a very large wet spot on his lap.

His coffee was gone.

“…I think he peed on me,” Dick said, a little absently. It wasn’t exactly cold yet, so, recent, and it kinda stank, actually. He certainly hadn’t expected to be peed on. Wasn’t that what diapers were for? Maybe they got the wrong diapers after all.

Babs tilted her head, a confused expression. “Uh, one, who is he? And two, why are you here? Is everything okay?”

Dick blinked, and decided to go with the easy question first. “This is Damian. And we’re here to drink coffee.”

“Uh huh,” Babs said, and he took in her apron—with a half risen sun, the coffee shop’s logo.

He blinked again, trying to pay attention. “You work here?”

“I’m the night manager. College isn’t cheap,” she replied, putting a hand on her hip and sighing. “Dick—“

But, in a move to avoid answering questions, Dick asked his own. “How do you handle college and working here every night?”

“More than one night manager, Dick, I only work here three days of the week, but, stop diverting the conversation,” Babs replied, rolling her eyes. She was trained by the Bat too, after all. “Why do you have a baby here in the middle of the night? You look awful.”

He would have laughed, but he thought Damian was sleeping, and he wasn’t taking any chances. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he retorted.

“Dick, I’m serious.” Barbara was looking at him with worried eyes.

The retort of ‘I thought you were Barbara’ died away at the genuinely concerned look on her face. It felt like a guilt punch to the gut. And that was about when Damian started shifting, whining as he nuzzled against Dick’s shoulders and chest.

“Hey, hey,” Dick said ever so softly, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.” He managed to refrain from adding ‘please.’

But Damian seemed to sense he wanted him to sleep, and so instead his blue eyes blinked open, looking at him in an almost discerning way. He started pressing away from Dick’s chest, examining his immediate surroundings, and Dick desperately wished he would just go back to sleep.  
But Damian was clearly not going to sleep. Instead, he started burbling, of all things. Quietly, but seemingly trying to talk.

Barbara said, somewhat sharply, “Dick Grayson, tell me what’s going on right now.”

Dick looked up at her, feeling like his neck was an old model that needed replaced. His head felt like it might start hurting again soon. “This is…uh, Damian seems to be my son.”

Barbara’s eyebrows shot up. She was speechless for a moment, lips opening and closing, peachy colored and in shock. “…oh. God…you have a kid? How?”

Dick laughed a little. It wasn’t at all humorous, but he really, really didn’t want to think about the how. “Yeah. Not…one hundred percent sure on the how.” It came out sounding more weak and scared than he wanted it to.

And Barbara’s face creased in sympathy, something stronger than that, almost, and she gently lifted Damian from his lap. She crinkled her nose a little at the smell, but she said, “Well. Well, first things first, right? He needs changed, or else he’s gonna be cranky.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, grateful for Babs’s lack of prying. 

Damian let out a half-whine half-sigh sort of sound. He seemed somehow at ease being held under the armpits by Babs, and yet not so happy about the probable chill on his bottom area from the pee.

“I have diapers, I can, uh,” Dick started, scrambling through the plastic bags.

Babs easily fished one out, along with wipes and extra clothes. “It’s okay, I got it. Hey, go ask Sierra if anybody’s got extra pants, kay? I’m pretty sure someone’ll let you borrow them if you let them know we’re friends and all that.”

Dick rubbed at his face, nodding. “Thanks, Babs.”

“Well, we are a team,” Barbara said, a wink sent his way. And she took Damian to the restroom.

Dick got up slowly, feeling the draft hit the wet spot on his pants. It was right along the right thigh, which Damian had apparently found quite cushy. 

Sierra was more than cheery about getting him pants, chirping at some guy named Javier that they needed pants and hey, he had some extras in the back, right, could he be a total awesome dude and get them for Dick?

He sighed, the pants a thick corduroy in his hand, and headed for the other bathroom; both of them were single toilet deals with surprisingly gleaming handrails.

The tiles on the wall were very old, but impeccably clean.

He got changed quickly, slipping on the pants to find they were soft and kinda baggy.

Huh. He didn’t have any other clothes. He didn’t bring any with him. He let out a soft groan, sitting on the closed toilet. He really was in no way prepared to do this. To live on his own and take care of a baby.

He stepped out anyway, because Damian was relying on him and he couldn’t think much further beyond that.

The screaming from the bathroom, however, sent his adrenaline into overdrive, because that was Damian and he was screaming like he was dying—

The door handle was locked.

“Babs! Barbara!” he said much more loudly than intended, more frantically.

The lock popped. He opened the door, charging in, to find a wailing Damian thrashing in Barbara’s hold.

“What happened?” he demanded.

She grimaced, obviously straining not to drop the kicking and flailing infant, and said, “ I don’t know! Take him!”

Dick did so, and Damian sobbed into his chest, still almost screaming, face a burning hot red and tears down his face. Dick ran his hand on his hair, his scalp feeling terribly warm, and said, “It’s okay, Damian, you’re okay, it’s okay, I swear it’s okay…”

Damian was mostly undressed, he realized. His bare legs pummeled the air, as he seemed furious or frightened about something. 

Barbara was staring. Her green eyes had shock.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They were on Damian, low on his naked and warm back. And so Dick turned Damian around, and his mouth fell open a little. 

There, splotched across Damian’s lower back, was an enormous bruise. Or, rather, it seemed to extend from the edge of the diaper up, maybe a mix of bruises, yellow and brown and all varied colors. It looked extremely painful.

And Dick thought he might throw up.

Damian had quieted some, one foot still kicking a little, in a rather aimless way, as he whimpered.

“…I must have touched it,” Babs said, very seriously and softly. She looked torn between horror and rage, like a lighter trying to light.

“Yeah,” Dick breathed out, a lump in his throat seeming to choke off more words.

“Dick…who had him before you did?” Barbara said, eyes very solemn, if a touch watery.

He was having difficulty speaking. It was like every word was too heavy to lift. He stroked Damian’s head, settling him carefully against his chest as he tried to somehow steel himself to look further. To see what the bastards had done to the baby.

_His_ baby.

But he would have to know. He couldn’t ignore it, as much as he wished what had happened to Damian could be magically gone.

Babs took Damian again, very gently, looking at Dick’s arms.

He was shaking. 

“I’m…I’m going to finish changing him,” Babs said gently, quietly. “You go sit out there, and we’ll talk about it. Over coffee and donuts. My treat.”

And Dick stumbled out with a mute nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Dick is having a rough time dealing with this, if you couldn't tell. But Babs is here! :D
> 
> And poor, poor Dami...


	6. ...Never Put it Back Where it was Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is horrified by what was done to his baby, and he knows he has to protect Damian.
> 
> He is not alone, though.

His baby was mottled with bruises.

Dick had managed to go back into the bathroom after a solid fifteen minutes, and see the damage that had been done. It was enough to make him want to weep.

Damian, tentatively sucking at his own fist, lay naked on his stomach on the plastic, foldout baby changing station. The paper crinkled under him as he uncertainly looked about. Babs had her hand on his hair, soothingly running her fingers through it as it looked like she wanted to murder someone.

Damian’s rear, from just above the buttocks to the tops of his chubby thighs, were mottled with bruise upon bruise. More bruises than one would ever, ever expect on a baby, even one who might have been dropped by accident or some other incident.

His feet were bruised too.

And Dick swallowed hard, knowledge of the fact they’re been training his baby to deal with pain settling in his head heavily.

Because it was clear there wasn’t an intent for permanent damage. No, this was a punishment, and conditioning.

He wasn’t even a goddamn year old.

“Dick,” Barbara said, “Who had him before you?”

“Talia. The League of Assassins,” Dick managed, as Barbara so, so carefully got Damian in a diaper, and then back in his clothes.

The fury in her eyes was evident, but it never carried over to her gentle hands.

She bundled him up as best she could, and then passed him over to Dick. His face was still slightly red, still slightly damp, and his baby fist clenched in Dick’s shirt.

“Did he...is he pooping all right?” Dick asked, feeling like it was such a small question in comparison to what had just been revealed.

“I think. He eating solids?” Barbara responded, face unable to shake the angry frown.

“Maybe?”

Barbara nodded, face pulled into a pinch. “Let’s get some coffee and donuts. My treat.”

They settled on the old couch, Damian sprawled on Dick’s chest and sucking away at his fist, and Barbara with a literal box full of day old donuts. Enough to make Dick’s stomach suddenly rumble.

The cup of hot, sugary coffee also made him feel his hunger.

She eased Damian off of his chest, despite his beginning snuffles of a complaint, and soon had him situated comfortably, starting to feed him crumbs of a donut. Your basic cake, Dick thought.

Dick, in the meantime, dug in to a cream filled donut and drank the coffee.

“So. Talia took your kid?”

Dick blanched a little at that. “Something like that.”

Barbara’s eyes widened. “Dick.” She seemed to be struggling for words a little. “Dick, is she--”

“She’s the mother,” Dick confirmed, “I don’t know how, but...DNA confirms it.”

Barbara’s eyes flared with rage. “That-that sick bitch! Oh my god, what the fuck?” It was almost startling to see the amount of rage that Babs had on his behalf, the way she cursed when she really didn’t do that very often.

“It’s okay,” Dick murmured, mostly meaning that she didn’t need to do anything about it.

“It is _not_ okay, Dick!” Barbara had suddenly moved the box of donuts, moving closer to him. “It’s not. No one should—she had no right--”

“I know. _I know._ ”

Barbara let out a frustrated sound, like she wanted to be punishing Talia, or somehow making it right. Instead, she suddenly looped an arm around his shoulder, looking at him fervently. “Hey. Boy Wonder.”

“What?” Her green eyes were very sure, very determined.

“You’re going to be okay, kay? I’m not going to let you not be okay.”

Dick nodded, finding himself leaning onto her shoulder. He was so tired, and her shoulder was so soft.

She let him sleep, and Damian made a small burble noise, apparently content to be where he was and to have eaten a donut.

Dick drifted off, feeling surprisingly safe.

–

He awoke again, stiff but warm.

He looked up to find he was indeed still leaning on Babs, but she was asleep, her head tipped back a bit. Damian was nestled in her other arm, and Dick found himself flushing a little.

Babs was _working_ , and he’d just used her as a pillow.

“Hey,” came a quietly chirpy voice. Sierra was leaning over, apron dusted with powdered sugar and fighting a yawn. “I made you hot chocolate, kay? You can have it and eat a cake donut too!”

Dick was a little distressed, but nodded. He took the cup in his stiff fingers, and rolled his back, the joints popping. “Uh...do you need me to help with anything?”

Sierra tittered a little, but quieted quickly. “Nah. We managed without Babs for tonight—lucky it’s so slow. She really needed a nap anyway, probably. Javier and I are pretty awesome at this.”

Said co-worker looked in their direction a moment, blinked, and went back to work sweeping behind the counter.

It seemed to be a dead hour. No one else was in the coffee shop, and Dick noticed the drawing on the board had been replaced. This one was of a penguin somehow giving a thumbs up, next to a new flavor for iced coffee.

Damian looked so peaceful, cushioned on Babs and drool-covered fist a couple inches from his mouth. He had long lashes, Dick realized, and then shifted his gaze to Barbara. She looked tired, but just...she was beautiful. She looked peaceful too, mascara-black lashes seeming to leave smudges by the bottoms of her eyes, and her mouth slightly open, peachy colored lips just looking…

As inviting as always, honestly.

He wanted to kiss her, he realized, in spite of everything going on. He flushed at that realization, because that was a crush he thought he had successfully buried. After the embarrassing first kiss that they hadn’t spoken of again.

He remembered her lips were soft, and that he felt so guilty for doing that without asking. That he wished he had asked and maybe it would have smoothed things over.

But he was just freshly thirteen, she was a mature fourteen year old, and it was...she obviously hadn’t wanted it to be that. And so they were friends.

Close friends, in fact. Dick hadn’t let the lack of romantic involvement change that.

Either way, though, watching her sleep made him feel a warm fondness. He remembered sleeping during missions together, one keeping watch and the other taking a nap. He didn’t know if Batman knew.

Bruce…

Dick’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He hadn’t talked to Bruce, but if anything, Bruce should talk to him. Should be the one to say something—he didn’t know that Bruce would even listen if he started the conversation himself.

He could imagine the brick wall that Bruce would put between them before Dick even said a word.

And he could imagine the horror if he managed to start with the most attention getting information:

_Bruce, I have a kid._

_The mother is Talia al Ghul._

He couldn’t even explain it himself, the prospect of finding out _how_ making his insides crawl. He needed to at least know what had happened before he approached Bruce.

If he could ever approach him again.

He didn’t know that he really _could_.

Distance for now might be good.

Damian started making a snuffling noise, and Dick interpreted it to mean he was hungry. He carefully eased him out of Barbara’s arms, and Damian burrowed his face into Dick’s shoulder, making small noises that sounded like protests that there wasn’t already food in his mouth.

Dick almost laughed, and stroked the back of Damian’s head. “I know, kiddo. Let’s get you something.”

The formula was easy enough to mix up, and Sierra stuck it in the microwave to make it even easier on Damian. 

(They had one in a tiny break room, Dick learned, among other things.)

Barbara continued sleeping, and it was kinda the least Dick could do, not waking her up. Damian drank rather noisily from the bottle, clasping it with both hands, and looking up at Dick every so often. He seemed almost questioning, but Dick wasn’t sure if he was reading into Damian’s expression.

He was a warm kid, Dick thought, but not feverish hot, which was a relef. The last thing they needed was for Damian to get sick.

Barbara came awake around then with a start, apparently instantly registering that Damian wasn’t in her arms. She relaxed on seeing him with Dick. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Dick returned, feeling Damian shift to look at Barbara. “You feel okay?”

Babs snorted, saying, “Me? You’re the one who suddenly has a kid.” Her eyes were sadder as they settled on Damian, something of an anger there. The righteous kind that Dick had come to know her for.

“Yeah,” Dick said softly. By now, Sierra was rearranging cookies and Javier was out of sight, so they could talk a little more honestly.

Babs seemed to realize that too. “Where’s Bruce in all this?”

Dick pressed his lips together, unsure if he wanted to get into that.

Babs took it the wrong way. “That _bastard_. He threw you out? With a _baby_?”

“No. no, well--” Dick wasn’t sure how to clarify. “I...he might have thrown me out. I mean, he did hit...I mean, he doesn’t know about Damian--”

“He _hit_ you?” Barbara repeated, red brows drawing together in anger.

Dick shrugged uncertainly. He really didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “Babs, I get way worse on a regular basis from other activities.”

“That is not the same thing and you know it!” Barbara said, clearly upset and not about to let this go.

Dick swallowed. “It’s okay. I’m just not going back for now.”

Barbara’s eyes widened. “Dick, do you have anywhere you’re staying?”

Dick almost nodded, then admitted, “Well, kind of. Right now I’m locked out, but I can crack it--”

“No. No, you’re coming home with me. My dad won’t mind at all, I swear. He’ll totally understand, and it’s not the same as like, bringing home a boyfriend to stay in my room or something.” Barbara suddenly encased him and Damian in a hug before he could protest.

“Babs, I, uh--”

“Dick. I don’t like seeing you hurting, please let me help you,” she murmured, cheek pressed near his ear.

Dick thought he might cry, and so instead of replying, just nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on the trip. Weird issues with internet, so, all posting at once (I wrote two other updates for different stories).
> 
> And poor Dami. I feel like they would try to condition him to pain and shit even that young. And the buttocks are one of the best places to strike if you don't want to do permanent damage (though there is still definitely a risk).
> 
> Babs is gonna be a Superfriend. Or SuperGirlFriend. ;P


	7. In Another Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babs takes Dick and Dami home with her.
> 
> Jim Gordon has something to say, however.

Damian was curled so tightly in Dick’s lap he thought he might suffocate, and kept checking to make sure he was breathing. He absolutely insisted on having his face buried in Dick’s shirt and his limbs bunched up tightly while they were on the bus, and he certainly wasn’t about to explain why, being an infant.

Barbara was keeping a sharp eye. She seemed to know that the League could come after them for Damian, potentially, at least. Dick had no doubt she would fight Talia if she thought she had to.

It set a warm and yet slightly nauseated feeling in his gut. He really didn’t want Babs to get hurt, but it meant enough to him that she would fight to protect him and Damian that he felt like he might cry. Instead, he rubbed Damian’s back and held him close.

People did not talk on the bus. This was a thing that Dick had learned, since the his circus family tended to chatter like hell on the bus rides on their own buses. His absolute first time riding a city bus was eery, and he tried to strike up conversation only to get that look that said, ‘You’re not from here, are you?’

He’d been maybe ten. 

Right now, it was eery all over again, the silence feeling like it hid people who would come after him. Yet another old lady had judgmental eyes on the both of them, and Dick was wondering if everyone thought they were an irresponsible teenage couple or something. It felt heavy, like people’s gaze could attach weights to his clothes or limbs and press him down.

Barbara, however, had her arms crossed over her chest, a slightly challenging gaze on her face. She wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, but her expression could best be described as ‘leave us the fuck alone’ and ‘go ahead, try it.’

Damian snuffled in Dick’s arms at that point, another reassuring sound of breathing, and that was about when Dick could feel Damian nomming on his shirt. He seemed to enjoy chewing and biting things a lot, and Dick thought that might be pretty normal for a baby.

He probably didn’t know as much as he should about babies.

Considering he had one, he had better get on that. He didn’t see himself as about to give Damian up, so he should...he really should know how.

The bus came to a slow stop, and the creak seemed to disturb Damian, the baby letting out a small whine. The old lady murmured something about ‘kids these days’ and brushed off her floral blouse, heading for the exit with a holier-than-thou attitude, which seemed a bit weird on a bus.

They both ignored her.

Babs had a hand on his arm, steadying, as they walked through the street. It was still very cold, and Damian seemed to let out a muffled protest at exit from the bus, which was warmer, if not really toasty.

Dick snuggled him closer, suddenly feeling more conscious of every single person in the street. They all looked like they might try to snatch Damian, and he knew that was ridiculous, but it made him protective all the same.

Barbara’s grip on his elbow seemed softer all of a sudden, as if reading him and his fear about Damian. Her look towards him was a reminder: it’s okay. No one’s going to attack us—at least, not without big consequences.

He wished he could completely trust that, but he knew he could trust Barbara to do whatever she could to help.

Babs’s home was in an apartment building, like a lot of Gothamites. She hadn’t exactly had him over a lot, but he’d seen it. It was tall, a greenish gray shade to the stone or concrete, and the windows tended to be covered with curtains.

She led him into the lobby, which was a simple space with carpet on the walls. It had a couple of potted plants that Dick hoped had had a better time sometime before, and a desk with a guest check in book chained to it. 

It looked long unused.

They headed up to the apartment, and she murmured, “Now, don’t freak out, cause my dad’s not gonna think it’s my baby, obviously, but he might think we’re dating and that’s a whole mess.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “Yeah, uh, that’d be ridiculous.” Good god, he’d never felt so tongue-tied. Damian seemed to make a disapproving noise, nose wrinkling.

Well, the building did had that sort of scent of mildew or bleach going on. Probably both.

They passed a cleaning cart on their way, a large lady in a uniform leaning into a closet. A thin man with a pointy nose watched them dismissively as he got a bucket out of the cart.

Babs opened up the apartment with her key, swinging it open easily and dumping her bag by the door, as well as several of his, the crinkling noise seeming too loud in the apartment where Barbara’s dad was waiting and would see Dick had an infant son.

Suddenly, a sweat broke out over Dick’s skin. What would Gordon think? How the hell could he even begin to explain this? What if he thought Dick was just some—some low life and kicked him out or even called CPS? He didn’t even like Dick that much to begin with, he was sure.

He held Damian tighter, til the baby whimpered at his grip, and he loosened apologetically.

“Dick? You can totally come through. There, now if you’re a vampire you can come in,” Barbara teased, but there was quickly more compassion in her eyes. “It’s okay, you know. My dad’s not going to do anything awful, I swear. He’s a great dad.”

“I know,” Dick managed, and he stepped over the threshold. He couldn’t quite explain why he was so scared all of a sudden.

The Commissioner was at the sofa, crouched over a coffee table and sifting through papers. He almost didn’t look up, obviously recognizing Barbara’s voice and footsteps, but then he looked sharply to Dick. “What are you...whose baby is that?”

“Mine,” Dick murmured, feeling almost naked. Damian didn’t seem to understand, cooing a little at Gordon. 

That...was actually the first time Dick could recall seeing Damian react like that to a person on first sight.

Gordon stood slowly, and Barbara hadn’t said anything yet, seeming to just watch. Maybe she was feeling the same apprehension that Dick was.

“Son,” he said, “How did you end up with a baby?”

He said it not like he couldn’t believe such a thing would happen, but the question more asked, ‘How could this happen to you too?’

Dick swallowed, unsure how to explain. Damian was very quiet now, like he’d picked up on the tension. “I, uh...”

“Dad,” Barbara said softly, “It was a much older woman who…” she trailed off, glancing back at Dick. He could feel soft ice shards in his chest, clutching Damian closer.

She bit her lip. “Can I talk to you in private, Dad?”

Gordon looked at Dick for an uncomfortably long time, and then let out a heavy sigh through his mustache. “Of course.”

They disappeared back into Babs’ room, and Babs gave him that look that said, ‘Absolutely do not listen in, I know you can.’

Dick gave a slightly dizzy nod, and he wanted to sink down on the couch, but for unexplainable reasons, he didn’t dare. Instead, he stroked Damian’s head, his hair so silky soft and distracting. In fact, Damian as a whole was distracting, as he looked into Damian’s serious blue eyes, the baby blinking up at him like he was asking a question.

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise that, Dami. You’re such a good baby, and you don’t deserve any less than that,” Dick murmured softly, kissing Damian’s forehead. It was a mix of tears in his eyes at the moment and fury in his muscles as he thought of what had already happened to Damian.

He deserved to feel safe, and Dick wasn’t sure he did. 

Damian let out a snuffle, and Dick cuddled him, wanting desperately to take the apprehensive look off his face.

He thought he heard a raised voice. Maybe cussing.

He hoped it wasn’t at him, or about him. At least, not in a negative sense.

Finally, finally, Babs and her dad stepped out of the bedroom. Gordon looked a little ruffled, but in that way that said he’d dragged his hand through his hair again, felt anger, and all that. His green eyes turned towards Dick, and he said, “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. Him too.”

Dick thought he might cry, but instead he said, “Thanks.” He couldn’t get out any more without his chin starting to wobble, so he didn’t.

Babs drew him over to the couch, and he sat down, feeling suddenly somewhat boneless. Babs eased Damian out of his arms, and said, “I bet he needs fed and slept. I’ll handle it, kay?”

Dick nodded mutely, the lack of sleep seeming to catch up to him.

Babs tossed a pillow and blanket at him one by one, telling him with the warmest smile that Dick had ever seen from her, “Sleep, dozey. You need it.”

He couldn’t even retort at that point, just let out a stupid almost laugh, and then his head sank onto the pillow, eyes shutting.


	8. Ruffled Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick finds safety at the Gordon residence. At least, that's what he's hoping.

Dick couldn’t imagine having slept harder than when he woke up. He felt like he’d probably died in his sleep. He was confused when he woke up, in fact, his whole body kind of heavy and the surroundings unfamiliar.

He didn’t ask questions, simply took in the scene. 

A coffee table. The sofa he was sleeping on. A steaming mug of tea on the coffee table, the picture frame with Babs and Commissioner Gordon and her deceased mother--

He realized pretty quickly where he was, and the scenes replayed in his head.

He sat up slowly, looking about for Damian—he was pretty sure he hadn’t even heard him cry, and babies cried a lot, right? What if he wasn’t even here?

He was already standing and moving towards the door to Barbara’s room before he thought much about it, and then he paused with his hand on the knob. He knocked instead, asking, “Uh, Babs? Is there—“

The door opened, and Barbara had a finger to her lips as she tilted her head towards a sleeping Damian.

The old, old crib was solid, dark wood. He could see Damian sucking at his fist as he made an indent in the old crib mattress, which had a faded beige-pink sheet on it. His little legs were bunched up, and his breathing was slow but audible, slightly like a snore.

Dick could feel the tension go out of his muscles, and he hadn’t totally realized it had been there in the first place.

Babs smiled at him, and quietly stepped out of her room. She left the door open a bit, so they could still see Damian.

Then she took his hand and led him gently back to the couch. Dick didn’t ask questions, just accepted it. She pointed to the mug of tea, stating, “That’s for you. Dad left it for you before he left for work. He was kinda concerned you hadn’t had anything to eat for a while.”

Dick laughed a little. “Well, that’s kinda true.”

He was pretty sure the closest thing he’d had to a meal recently was coffee and donuts.

“Also, there’s toast and cereal.”

Dick nodded, smiling a little at the prospect of cereal. He was pleased to find that his delight wasn’t misplaced—their selection wasn’t big, but there were frosted cheerios at least.

He poured that into a bowl and doused it with milk.

Babs sat across from him, pouring herself a bowl of the same cereal. And putting a protein bar next to her bowl.

Just like he probably should get. Protein, that is. And Babs seemed to know that as well, plopping one next to his bowl. They both were athletes, and sugary cereal wasn’t going to cut it.

He was quiet as he considered that. Babs was a gymnast, a college student, a coffee shop manager...he didn’t have a lot going on in terms of being able to support a baby or even himself. He was still a teenager. Technically a child himself, actually.

“You’re pensive this morning,” Babs commented. Her expression didn’t suggest that was a joke, or a teasing line.

“Yeah,” Dick responded, eyes on his cereal again. 

“Want to talk about it?”

Dick wasn’t so sure. He knew Babs knew a lot, but he still didn’t want to feel vulnerable and exposed, in some ways. What if she thought he was stupid? What if she urged him to give Damian to—to her and her father, or some other people who would be way better at caring for him?

What if she wanted to wreak vengeance or something?

“I...I don’t know a lot about babies.”

“Mhm,” Barbara responded, taking a bite of cereal in the way someone might if they were listening to something very interesting. Not like a radio show, but maybe a talk from from someone they were fond of. 

“I just...I don’t want to hurt Damian any more than he’s already been hurt, and he’s already been hurt a lot, probably, so—how do I fix that? How do I protect him? How do I—I _teach_ and nurture and-and all that--”

“Dick, calm down, you’re getting way ahead of yourself,” Barbara said softly. “You’ve barely even had Damian with you. Even typical new parents are at their wits’ end their first day or weeks or what have you.”

“How do you know?” Dick looked to Babs perhaps a touch desperately, and he wondered how she could be so calm.

Barbara shrugged. “Well, it’s not innate mothering instinct, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s...well, I’ve kinda had to step up here, since...since my mother passed. And I also have seen a lot of new families, since Dad wants to help out the ones in the department who need it and aren’t crooked...I mean, he wasn’t always commissioner, either.”

She seemed to look heavily down at her cereal. She was pensive now, like she was in memory.

Dick nodded softly. “It’s...hard to replace a mom. Sometimes, kinda impossible.”

Alfred was the closest thing he had to a mother now, after all.

Alfred. _Alfred._ He’d be worried about him, wouldn’t he? Maybe he should call him, at least let him know he wasn’t dead or something.

But then Babs was reaching out a hand, tucking it over Dick’s. “You’ll be okay, you know. Look at me. Look at any number of people who’ve made it through stuff.”

He wasn’t sure if she was talking about being kicked out or being even more of an orphan or having a baby as a teenager. Whatever it was, though, he was comforted, a warm like a candle filling his chest.

“Thanks, Babs.”

Just like that, though, Damian came awake, and the whimper was enough to send Dick nearly running to the bedroom. 

Damian was kicking out his little feet sleepily, face crumpled at the idea that he wasn’t being taken care of. Or that he was alone. Dick lifted him gently, and Damian whined in a half awake tone. 

“I know, I don’t like waking up at odd hours either,” Dick consoled.

Damian snuffled, burying his face in Dick’s chest. He started to mouth at his shirt, whimpering a small bit.

“Hey, Babs, where’s the formula? I’m pretty sure he’s hungry,” Dick said, smiling a bit. Waking right up with an appetite—not unlike Wally, honestly.

Babs already had it, though, handing him a warm bottle. “Ta da. Don’t say I’m not a miracle worker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dick retorted, as Damian reached for the bottle before he could even get it in range.

As Dick got settled on the couch with Damian, he could hear Barbara moving about in the kitchen. Dishes clinked, the sound of a cereal box being put away, other things that made it sound very domestic.

And he vaguely wondered if this was extremely far from what Dami knew. It was a bit removed from what he knew. It was pretty calm, actually, in a way that recent months at the manor hadn’t been. It seemed like Bruce was ready to have a shouting match with him at any moment back home.

He was quiet as Babs settled next to him with a textbook, flipping it open.

And then there was a knock on the door.

Dick looked to Babs, who slowly stood, heading for the door. She put her eye to the peephole, and said lowly, “Dick, do you know a blonde woman with glasses?”

And Dick was immediately on alert, cradling Damian to his chest, as he shook his head. Babs signaled a retreat, the hand signs Batman taught them, and he carefully, quietly got back in the bedroom, gently rocking Damian and easing his bottle out of his mouth—and his thumb back in to replace it.

Barbara slowly opened the door, the clink showing the chain was still in place. “Sorry, we’re not interested in magazine subscriptions.”

“That’s good, because we’re not selling them,” came the reply, tone indistinct, “They’re free today.”

That was the last bit Dick heard before Babs went quiet, and the chain came off the door like it was being gently removed, not smashed. He could feel his anxiety mounting—what if they were here for Damian? What if they wanted to take him—or, god forbid, even kill him?

“You’ll want to take a seat,” Babs said carefully, “Perhaps some tea?”

Please, Dick begged, let it be good, or manageable.

The door closed. 

“I think you know why we’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the general delay. It's been a bit tricky writing in general.
> 
> As it is, I felt a bit stuck with this one. It's been a touch difficult to revisit caring for a baby, honestly, because I was like a mom for my baby bro and now I'm not, now that I don't live at home.
> 
> I hope it isn't too boring. And the next chapter should come soon enough. :)


End file.
